A New Light
by courtster87
Summary: Mark's been secretly in love with his best friend Roger for years, all he's ever wanted is for Roger to be happy. But now that Mimi is gone, Roger is depressed. Can Mark get his best friend and secret lover through these difficult times? PostRent MR
1. A New Light

**"A New Light"** – A FanFictionby: Courtney

SUMMARY: This story focuses around the characters Mark Cohen and Roger Davis. If you are offended of the two as a couple, you will not like this fic so don't read it! If you are a fan of these two or if you are curious to see if you would be—read! ENJOY and please comment; I love to know what you think. Feel free to speak your mind, don't hold back! THANKS :D

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

-March, 1990-

Mark started working for Buzzline again, realizing he needed the money desperately for him and his roommate, Roger. Roger had lost his second serious girlfriend, Mimi, a couple months prior to Mark's decision to go back to work. Roger had started using again in the hopes that it would help him get through her death. Being Roger's best friend, Mark found out about his habit right away and got him to stop. But it wasn't that simple; Roger now faced going through withdrawal which was even tougher on him than the drugs.

Mark and Roger sat in silence, listening to the wind whistling through the cracks in the apartment roof and walls. Tonight was a good night. Most nights, Roger would easily fly off the handle at anything Mark would say or do or even, imply. Roger glared at his so-called "friend" who sat beside him on the aged-brown, moth-eaten couch. Deep down he knew that Mark was just trying to help him, but the drugs had convinced him that he needed a hit.

"I'm going out," Roger said bluntly as he rose to his feet. Mark looked up from his coffee cup and at his best friend through his black framed, coke-bottle lenses.

"Oh no you're not," Mark said as he slammed the mug down on the short round coffee table that sat in the center of their aluminum apartment loft. Mark slowly and sternly rose to his feet. Mark looked Roger square in the eye, "We had a deal. I don't call and tell Collins about your 'situation'" Mark held up his hands to quote the air," and you don't go anywhere without me."

Roger stood his ground, "I'm a grown man; I can take care of myself."

"Oh yeah?" Was Mark's snickered response.

"Yeah," Roger debated, putting his hands on his hips, parting his black leather jacket.

"Alright," Mark said matter-of-factly. With anger growing in each scenario, Mark raged on, "Who helped you get over the loss of April? Who helped you get through withdrawal the FIRST time? Who SHOWERED you and put you to bed because you couldn't even stand up straight, 'cause you were high as hell or drunk off your ass? Shall I continue?" Mark was now right in front of Roger, shaking with anger.

Roger didn't have a response; he was too amazed at how bold Mark had been. Mark looked as though he were coming back to his senses. He got off his tiptoes and silently gazed up at his friend. He sighed heavily and put a kind hand on his friend's broad shoulder, "I'm sorry, Rog. I'm just frustrated." He brought his other hand to his head and looked down at the cracked, wooden floor.

Roger began to think about his actions throughout the past couple of weeks, they couldn't have been easy on Mark. After a moment, he spoke, "Nah, you have every right to be upset…It's just, I just….I need a….I want a…" His gravelly voice trailed off. "You've always been there for me and I guess I've kinda been taking our friendship for granted lately and I'm sorry," Roger croaked softly to his friend. Mark looked up from his focus on the ground to Roger's eyes and managed to reveal a small, half smile which said in itself that he had forgiven him. Roger noticed that his roommate's eyes had begun to swell, he was holding back tears. He silently returned Mark's smile in surrender and understanding.

Mark was suddenly overpowered by the moment shared between him and his roommate. It had seemed to conquer all his prior harsh thoughts and feelings. Mark felt himself lose control over his body's functions, as though someone else were controlling his every move and he had no say in what they did.

Roger felt his friend's grip on his shoulder start to move gradually toward his neck. Both men breathed heavily.

"Mark?" Roger asked gulping, nervously, "Mark. What are you doing? Stop it!" Roger took his own hand in attempts of trying to pull Mark's hand away from where it now lay.

Mark stroked the stubble on Roger's face as Roger tried to pull away. Mark pushed on further. He tried to pull Roger's face toward his own by cupping the back of Roger's head and neck with his right hand. Roger fought against Mark's hand with all the strength his neck had.

Mark was silent as he and Roger fought, both confused by the other of his intentions. Roger shoved Mark with a great deal of force, which caused Mark to fall backwards, nearly losing his balance.

Roger was bewildered as he stared at his roommate. "What the hell was that, Mark?" He stammered, while trying to catch his breath.

Mark didn't say anything. He regained his focus and began to walk toward Roger again.

"You stay away from me," was Roger's huffed response. It was too late, Mark was coming back. Short of breath, Roger still had a few inches on Mark and was stronger too. He easily got Mark into an uncomfortable wrestling-like position, tackling him to the ground.

Mark squirmed in his arms. Roger looked at him, still very puzzled. "Mark, I don't…you know we can't…you know I'm not…I thought you were…" Roger didn't understand, he thought that Mark was straight. All his life he had dated girls; true, it hadn't been many, but he had dated them none-the-less.

Mark began to blush a bright shade of pink as he lay still, breathing heavily, in Roger's strong grip. "Rog, I…" Mark spoke softly. "I've just…n-never seen you in this light b-before," he tried to get his arms back from Roger as he spoke, feeling the embarrassment burning his cheeks.

"And in what fuckin' light might that be?" Roger asked sternly. He was not surprised by Mark's response, yet he was still very confused by the whole situation. When Mark didn't respond, Roger sighed and spoke again, but with a calmer, more peaceful approach. "You tried to kiss me, man. I thought…I thought we were buddies."

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it so far. Next chapter is already up! Please comment. THANKS!**


	2. The Dream

"**A New Light"** – A FanFictionby: Courtney

SUMMARY: This story focuses around the characters Mark Cohen and Roger Davis. If you are offended of the two as a couple, you will not like this fic so don't read it! If you are a fan of these two or if you are curious to see if you would be—read! ENJOY and please comment; I love to know what you think. Feel free to speak your mind, don't hold back! THANKS :D

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

---

It was cold, about forty degrees Fahrenheit, common for a March night. It was nearing 3am and Mark hadn't slept at all. He was lying motionless on his back, arms crossed on his chest, staring up at a large crack in the dingy grey ceiling of his small room. He could hear Roger through the thin walls shouting in his sleep. Mark had gotten used to Roger's sudden cries in the dark hours of the night; they were always shouts of "Mimi" or about needing drugs.

Instead of trying to ignore Roger like he usually did, Mark turned over on his left side toward Roger's room. He propped himself up on his elbow and just listened. Mark's eyes widened as he heard of what Roger was yelling about tonight.

"Mark. No, I can't. We can't. It's not right."

_Mark traced Roger's lips softly with his finger tips hushing his trembling voice. "It's not right," Roger repeated in a low whisper. Mark brought his hands up and cupped Roger's face in such a loving, tender way. Roger blinked slowly and felt his body start to numb. "Shh," Mark comforted as he pulled Roger's face gently down toward his own. Their lips met for a brief, exciting and tingly moment._

Roger's eyes snapped open. He lay there panting as his entire body shook atop his now drenched bed sheets. After a moment, he removed his wandering eyes from the walls, slowly regaining his self control. He lifted his head a few inches from his pillow and took a quick peek under the sheets to see something he hadn't quite expected to see. He could feel the nervousness coming as he tried to ignore this odd time for an erection by focusing on something else. As he lowered his head back down to his bed, he looked towards the ceiling; he began tapping his right foot tensely, anxiously humming the tune of _Your Eyes_.

Roger had written the love songfor Mimi early on in the year before she passed away. He was now trying to use it to convince himself that THIS, being Mimi, was what had caused the erection to occur in the first place.

Getting frustrated, Roger found that the song wasn't working, but he needed to do _something_. He decided that he'd take a cold shower to relieve the stiffness. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. _Quarter to three_. He pulled off his sweat-soaked sheets as he sat up, sitting sideways on the bed. Roger let out a slight yelp as he pealed his newly stained blue plaid boxers away from his skin that stuck to him like glue.

"You okay Rog?" Came Mark's concerned voice from the dark doorway.

"Jesus!" Roger jumped, putting a hand to his bare chest. He looked towards his door, seeing Mark's small outline standing against the doorframe. He cleared his throat as he ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine," he said just above a whisper.

Mark looked at the shadowy figure that sat on his roommate's bed. It hardly looked like the Roger he once knew. The once fun, outgoing, rocker he once knew was gone. This new "Roger" sat stiffly and sounded, almost worried. Mark uncrossed his arms and pushed his body away from the frame of the door and slowly began to make his way toward Roger's small twin bed.

"I heard you screaming," Mark began, "Have a bad dream?"

Roger looked up at Mark, whose figure was becoming clearer the closer he came. "Yeah. I…I mean, no. I mean, yeah." Roger stumbled over his words, not sure of what to say or what he should or shouldn't make of his dream. He sighed heavily, "I don't know."

Reaching the bed, Mark sat next to Roger. "You wanna tell me about it?" Mark coaxed, already knowing it had been about him. He looked at Roger's bed sheets and was a little surprised with all the sweat he saw.

Roger noticed where his friend was staring and immediately thought that he would assume the worst. He quickly pushed his sheets aside to prevent any presumptions Mark may have already been contemplating. "It's not what you think," Roger added hastily without even really thinking.

"What's not what I think?" Mark asked, shaking his head in confusion.

Roger opened his mouth as if to speak, but shrugged off the thought. "Never mind," he brushed the air with an open hand as if he were trying to erase his previous sentence.

Mark thought very carefully about what he wanted to say to his roommate next. "You know, Rog, we have to talk about tonight."

"It's not important," Roger shrugged off. "It was just a dream."

"No," Mark insecurely chuckled. "I mean," he sipped the air, trying to catch his shortening breath. "We have to talk about what _happened _tonight." Mark's eyes left Roger's as he began fidgeting anxiously with his hands in his lap. Mark half expected Roger to get angry again or worse, shut down. He hated it when Roger didn't want to talk about things, but it had, unfortunately, started to become routine ever since Roger had been diagnosed with HIV those few years earlier.

Half of Mark didn't want to know Roger's response, the other half, desperately needed to know. With his decision reached, Mark felt his right eye begin to twitch as he chose to look up and face Roger's reaction, what ever it may be.

With a sheepish, boyish grin playing upon his lips, Mark lifted his head, only to be greeted by two big, beautiful dark green-brown, hazel eyes.

"Hi," Roger breathed quietly.

Mark didn't dare let go of Roger's gaze this time, "Hi," he smiled back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Anyone ever tell you that you have the most adorable little dimples when you smile?" Roger asked playfully.

Mark blinked a few times as his cheeks began to brighten. His mouth then parted an inch or two, making him look a bit like a codfish.

Roger chuckled in amusement at Mark's stunned, silent reply.

Mark's mind was a whirlwind. Had Roger really said those words to him? Maybe he was just imaging things, hearing only what he wanted to hear. He could feel the palms of his hands begin to sweat and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His heart began pounding loudly through his loose fitting, white t-shirt as he felt a suffocating reality slowly close in around him.

After a few seconds, a dumbfounded Mark began to make a few noises, most of which are not translatable in the English dictionary.

Roger chuckled again, leaning backward on his elbows on the semi-soft mattress pad, tilting his head back, facing the ceiling.

Mark rubbed his cold, sweaty hands on his pajama pants. He glanced back at Roger lounging, very relaxed on his bed. Was this the same Roger of just a few minutes ago? Mark couldn't help noticing how muscular Roger looked and how perfect his body was. He had a nice natural tan and a small amount of curly dark blonde hair on his bare chest.

Mark pulled himself together and was finally able to relax a little. He leaned over on his side, much like he did before to hear Roger's screams. "Rog?" Was barely heard above the creaking apartment.

Roger kept his resting eyes closed and almost as quietly as Mark had said his name, he responded, "Yeah?"

Mark drew a sharp breathe from the cold night air, "I'm sorry about everything that happened tonight."

Roger slowly opened his eyes and pulled himself into the same position as his roommate, facing him. His gravely voice sounded almost as if he were disappointed, "Yeah, me too."

Mark put a comforting hand on his friend's arm and they laid together in silence like that until they both fell asleep.

**A/N: I am currently working on chapter 3. But I will not post until I get at LEAST two reviews. Thanks!**


	3. Good Times

**A/N: Ok, apparently there was a bit of confussion with my last chapter...I'm not really sure what the confussion was, I thought it was pretty straight forward. But if you have questions, just message me!!**

It was a cold spring morning. The clock on the cheap microwave read 5:42AM. Mark sat with one leg crossed under the other on the long window seat, silently gazing out at the orange rising sun. He sighed heavily, deep in thought. Mark enjoyed this time he had to himself, just being able to think about things. Things he had, things he wanted, people he wanted. His heart began pounding as he thought of a certain pair of dark green eyes. He swallowed hard in attempts of keeping himself from crying. Mark could not deny himself; he was in love with his best friend, even if these feelings would never be returned.

"Morning," Roger's quiet, scratchy voice said, pulling Mark from his thoughts, as he entered the room, now flooded with sunlight.

Mark turned his head from the window acknowledging his roommate, not having to force a smile. He was always happy to see him. "What are you doing up this early?"

"Why?" Roger asked, scratching his big head of hair. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to six," Mark said with his smile still present.

"Wow. I don't think I have woken up _this_ early since junior high," Roger chuckled at the thought of junior high school. "Do you…"

Mark looked at Roger, his smile widening, ever so slightly.

"…Do you remember that time when me and John Shanes wanted to ditch school and you were all, 'No guys, you…'" Roger started laughing hysterically. "'You guys'll get caught,' and we…we dragged you with us just so you'd shut up."

"That's _not _what happened," Mark complained.

"Yes…it was," Roger laughed, now with tears streaming down his face.

"No, I wanted to go."

"Uh-huh; yeah, 'Mister-Goody-Two-Shoes.'" Roger held his side still laughing, "Ow, oh man, I got a cramp." He collapsed on the couch which caused a puff of dirt to erupt from it.

Mark stood up from the window seat, "I really did. I just didn't want to get caught."

"Yup!" Roger said satisfied, still fully smiling, "Good ol' Marky."

"Ah, shut up," Mark said as he fell onto the couch next to his roommate creating another cloud of dirt. Both friends started laughing together.

"This is great, Rog," Mark smiled when they had calmed down and their sides weren't aching.

"What is?"

"That you're happy and laughing, even if it's about something as stupid as something that happened in JUNIOR high."

Roger's smile faded almost instantly with Mark's words, making Mark think he had made a poor decision to say those things. Roger cleared his throat, "Mark?"

"Yeah?" Mark replied.

"I miss this," Roger pointed back and fourth between himself and his friend.

Mark smiled and without thinking put a comforting hand on Roger's thigh, "Yeah, me too."

Feeling the odd, tingly sensation, Roger glanced down at Mark's hand.

Mark snapped back to reality, realizing where his hand was and immediately pulled it back.

Confused by the feeling Mark's hand had just given him, Roger took Mark's hand and placed it back on his thigh. Then he took it off again and then replaced it once again.

Mark was completely puzzled by Roger's actions. What was he doing? "Roger, what are you doing?" Mark asked very quietly.

"Trying to figure something out," Roger said very matter-of-factly.

After a moment, Roger looked up. Mark's hand was now resting on his own leg. "Mark, I need to ask you to do something. It may be weird; it's weird for me too. But I don't really understand what's going on here." Roger sighed. "I need…I need you to…" Roger whispered, "Kiss me."

"What?" Mark asked, unable to hear him.

Not much louder, Roger said, "Kiss me."

"What?" Mark couldn't understand Roger, he was mumbling.

"God damnit, Mark!" He yelled, pulling Mark up by his light grey sweatshirt, pulling him into his body, catching his lips.

Mark's eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if all of this was really happening; his body stiffened in shock. He felt the heat of Roger's body against his and felt himself start to loosen up a little. Closing his eyes, he was able to finally sink in and enjoy the unexpected, but amazing kiss he was receiving.

Roger's hands relaxed, loosening the tight grip they had formed on Mark's sweatshirt. Roger's mind began wandering as he kissed his friend. _What was I thinking? I'm straight! I like women—lots of women. Mark is a guy. A guy that is my friend, my good friend, my best friend; a great kisser—NO! What am I thinking?_

Mark moved his hands up Roger's tight fitting white t-shirt, over the toned muscles he could feel through the thin cotton. Now running his hands through the rocker's dark blonde hair, Mark felt himself losing control over his body's functions, much like the night before. He heard a slight moan come from Roger as he stroked his hair.

Roger suddenly pulled away, gasping for air. Both men began panting like dogs.

"Wow," Mark breathed.

"I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take you by surprise," Roger confessed. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Really?" Mark asked with a very disappointed look on his face.

"I don't know," Roger said still huffing. "I mean, I shouldn't feel this way. It's weird; I've been straight all my life. What's happening to me?"

Roger thought about it for a moment. _What IS happening to me? I'm not sure what to think. I can't be...gay, can I? Nah, it was just a one time thing. Right? _He glanced over at Mark, searching for an answer in his eyes.

"I think you acted on impulse," Mark said, trying to keep his cool about everything. He didn't want to let his emotions get the better of him, like they had the previous night.

"Maybe your right," Roger said.

There was a moment of silence that fell between the two men, but Roger soon spoke again, "But…what if you're not?"

Mark found it hard to sit still, knowing that he had just kissed the man that he had been telling himself since high school that it would never work out. He wanted so much for Roger to take him in his arms and sing to him. To hear him whisper things in his ear and to be the one that made all his problems go away.

Mark gazed up at Roger, biting his lower lip to keep from saying something stupid or kissing him again.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Roger spoke softly.

Mark cleared his throat, "The truth?" Roger nodded slowly. Mark drew a deep breath. "I'm thinking that…I don't really understand this. Rog, we've been friends a long time, and I've just, I don't know, it's stupid."

Roger looked at him, wonder filling his eyes.

Mark continued, "I'm not gay, but...I think I might kinda, sorta like you, a little. I mean, it's stupid, right?"

"Mark, you can't help who you like," Roger said trying to be understanding.

"I know…but I just never thought it'd be another guy. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" Roger half shouted it out. Mark looked up him, tears starting to well up in his eyes. "Nothing," Roger repeated quietly, stroking Mark's cheek with his thumb.

"Rog?" Mark started softly.

"Hmm?"

"If I tried to kiss you again," Mark began nervously, "would you stop me?"

"No," Roger whispered. He took Mark's glasses off, setting them on the round coffee table, revealing two beautiful crystal blue eyes.

**---**

**A/N: I hope you guys liked this chapter. Sorry for the "cliff hanger," but I am trying to keep my audience interested. LOL. Chapter Four is in the works...but I will not post until I get at least two reviews. Thanks guys!**


	4. Calming of Nerves

"**A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: OK! Wow!!!! LOL! Thank you sooo much for the comments—they were all wonderful! I am glad to hear that you guys are enjoying this so much! Well, without further ado, here it is, the very anticipated...Chapter 4!**

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Mark and Roger looked at one another for a moment in confusion of the strange feelings they shared.

"Why am I nervous?" Mark sighed, glancing down.

"Well, if it helps," Roger said at an equal level, tilting Mark's chin back up with his index finger. Meeting his eyes, he smiled warmly saying, "I am too."

At hearing this, Mark couldn't wait another second—he pressed his lips firmly into his roommate. Roger silently parted his lips, welcoming the kiss his friend was giving him. _Why does this feel so right? It's Mark. My buddy, Mark!_

Suddenly, it didn't matter who it was; Roger wrapped his strong arms around the man in front of him, pulling Mark's scrawny body closer to him.

Mark slid his hands up, cupping Roger's scruffy face, deepening the kiss.

Roger pressed his weight against the smaller man, forcing him to lie down. He laid half on his side with his back against the cushions of the couch, with his right leg intertwined with Mark's left. The two men continued kissing each other very passionately.

Mark wrapped his skinny arms around the neck of the rocker above him, playing with the thick, wavy, shoulder length hair. Pulling Roger further into him, if that was at all possible, Mark parted his lips, allowing the man's foreign tongue to enter his very eager mouth.

Roger's hungry tongue explored the filmmaker's mouth with great satisfaction. Still kissing, Roger slowly moved his guitar playing, callused right hand down the tiny frame under him. He began to pull Mark's overly large sweatshirt up, taking the underneath t-shirt with it.

Mark let a slight giggle escape his mouth as he felt the tickle of Roger's rough hands on his skin and felt himself start to become red in the cheeks.

Pulling himself up to rest completely atop Mark, Roger took his other hand from where it rested behind Mark's head on the arm rest. He slid it down the other side of his friend's sweatshirt, lifting it further, continuing to pull the t-shirt up as well.

Mark arched his back in ecstasy; Roger almost causing him to cum. Moaning softly at every touch—

_Ring! Ring!_

Both men parted lips, sighing as if it caused them physical pain to be apart. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Roger asked the phone with anger held very high in his throat.

"SPEEEEEEAK!" The men's voices on the answering machine answered in unison after the typical two rings.

"Mark? Roger? Either of ya guys there? …"

"Maybe he'll go away if we don't answer," Roger suggested, the two men already knowing who the caller was.

"Rog!" Mark laughed.

"…Come on guys! It's Collins—Throw down thuh keys; it's fuckin' freezin out here!"

Mark tried pushing Roger off of him, but he wasn't moving. "Roger!" Mark laughed again. "Come on, it's cold out there."

Roger sighed in defeat, "Fiiiiine," but he didn't make it any easier for Mark. He continued to lie very still atop of him.

Mark couldn't help but to laugh a third time as he slipped out, with much difficulty, from underneath the larger man. Standing up, he pulled down his grey sweatshirt which was now almost up around his chest, exposing him to the chilly room. He took his glasses off the coffee table, placing them on his face. Then reaching into his right dark-jeaned pocket, he pulled out their only set of silver keys.

Roger sat up on the couch, scratching his head, tucking one leg underneath the other, watching his new lover with adoring eyes.

"What?" Mark asked as he walked toward the full-length window.

"Nothing," Roger smiled, brushing a fallen hair back out of his face.

Mark opened up the black framed window, "Hey!" He tossed the keys down to his friend who waited at the payphone on Avenue A.

As soon as Mark closed the window, he started pulling anxiously at his baggy sweatshirt. He licked the palm of his hand, smoothing it over his head in attempts of trying to "fix" his messy, make-out hair, afraid he and Roger would be too easily "discovered" by Collins if he didn't.

"What are you doing?" Roger asked looking over at his paranoid roommate. "Primping for your prom?" Roger jokingly asked in an obvious, over-the-top, high-pitched, high school girl's voice.

"No," Mark mimicked, pulling his large sweatshirt down again.

"Mark, you pull it down any further and it'll become a dress."

"Eh-heh," Mark snickered with a cheesy smile.

The sliding door to the loft loudly slid open. Collins walked in, flashing the two men his beautiful white smile.

"Hey buddy," Mark smiled. "How've you been?"

"Amazing," he answered, tossing Mark his keys.

"Why's that?" Mark asked, intrigued.

"You remember the teaching gig I got at NYU?"

"Yeah," Mark and Roger answered together.

"Yeah, well…they fired me. Apparently, word got out that I had AIDS and well, let's just say parents don't exactly like the idea of someone like me teaching their kids. So they let me go."

"Just like that?" Roger asked getting agitated.

"Yeah, well…that's the real world for ya."

"So…what's so amazing then?" Mark asked confused by Collin's happy demeanor.

"Oh! I got a new teaching gig right here in town!"

"What? No way, man—that's awesome!" Roger was excited to hear that his other best friend was coming back to live in town. "Where ya stayin?"

"Well…I was thinking…I'd stay here; if that's okay. I mean, you guy's got room, right?"

Mark and Roger looked at one another briefly, their smiles fading a little.

Collins looked at the two in confusion. "Did _somethin _happen between you two while I've been gone?"

"No," they both quickly answered together.

"Riiiiight," Collins dragged on, furrowing his brow in confusion, letting out a small, hardly noticeable laugh.

Mark cleared his throat, walking over to Collins' side, making a difficult decision in the process. "You know you're always welcome to stay with us as long as you need a place to stay."

"Thanks man," Collins said bringing Mark into a hug. "We'll talk later," he gritted his teeth together, making his voice unheard by Roger, who was still sitting on the couch.

Mark could feel his cheeks starting to burn again with guilt and worry about what Collins was talking about. He already had an inkling of what his friend was referring to. _Great—this oughta be a FUN conversation!_

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**A/N: I hope this chapter was well-received. Anyway, chapter 5 is in the works--please keep leaving me the encouraging reviews! I really like them :D Since I got so many reviews last time, I will not post the next chapter until I get at least 3 reviews! HAHA**


	5. Comfort in Unlikely Places

"**A New Light"** – A FanFictionby: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: You guys sure seemed to like my last chapter and because of that I was in the "groove" to write some more! Haha. So thanks for all the awesome reviews! I hope you continue to read and enjoy my story!!**

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"So Thomas," Roger began. He and Collins were sitting at the long aluminum kitchen table, located in the back left corner of the loft.

Collins looked up from his reading material, "Hmm?"

"Anyone else know you're in town for good?"

"Uh, no, actually. How's everyone doin?"

"Well you know Maureen," Mark slipped out. He was sitting with his legs curled up under him in the easy chair that sits to the right of the couch, fiddling with his video camera.

"Yeah, I'm afraid we _all_ do," Collins snickered looking in Mark's direction. "What's she been up to lately?"

"Same old Maureen, really. She calls only when she wants something. You know her and Joanne broke up again?" Mark asked rolling his eyes, but still focused on the recording device in his lap.

"No, I didn't know that. But _anyone_ could see _that_ coming a _mile_ away," he chuckled, glancing back at Roger, giving him a childish grin. He set his book down on the cold table, "How's she doin?"

"Joanne?" Mark asked finally looking up from his focus on his camera.

"Yeah," Collins said, turning back toward Mark.

Mark shrugged, "She's good. I hear more from her than I do Maureen, which I guess really isn't saying all that much."

Collins laughed out loud, hitting the table with his open palms. "Boy, if that's not the truth, I don't know is."

Mark frowned, "I still don't get what happened. I mean, I dated her for almost two years—and then she just dumped me."

"Mark, stop beating yourself up about it; it's just the way she is," Collins advised. "She likes lots of variety; guys one week, girls the next. I love the girl dearly, but that's just Maureen for ya."

Mark looked at Collins and nodded. "I know," he sighed. "I'm over her, but the whole situation is just still so bizarre to me."

Talking about past relationships made him start thinking of Mimi. "You guys wanna go grab some dinner?" Roger almost shouted, fighting against his thoughts of the brown-eyed beauty.

Mark and Collins looked at Roger in surprise at his random comment.

"It's only two, Rog," Mark said, not really starting to feel hungry yet.

"So? I'm starving," he lied.

"Alright, if you wanna go now, I guess we can," Mark replied.

"Cool!" Roger said a little too quickly, making Mark a bit suspicious. Roger felt slightly faint, "You guys go ahead and start walking; I'll be right down. I just gotta use the bathroom first."

"Mmk," Collins said standing up from his stool.

Collins seized his long grey-black leather jacket that had been bought for him a little over a year ago. Like every other time he put on the coat, he pulled it tightly around him, reminiscing the past, picturing Angel's warm, bright, smiling face.

Mark looked toward Roger, trying to see if he could figure out what was wrong. He knew something was bothering the musician, he just didn't know what. He wrapped his white and navy blue striped scarf around his neck and then he slowly pulled on his cheap, tan colored suede knockoff of a jacket, still eyeing Roger. Against his better judgment, he and Collins left the loft.

As soon as the door slid closed behind them, Roger rushed into the bathroom. Almost as soon as he reached the dingy porcelain toilet, Roger broke down in tears, regurgitating his midmorning breakfast, which hadn't been much. Without looking up, he weakly lifted his arm to reach for the hand towel on the towel rack above him, colliding with an arm instead.

"Hey Rog," Mark spoke sympathetically. Kneeling down beside him, he wiped his roommate's mouth with the towel. He wrapped his free arm around Roger's weak, trembling body.

A pale, white-faced Roger looked to Mark, "I don't want you seeing me like this," he whined.

"Everyone goes through rough times, Rog," Mark said rubbing Roger's back trying to soothe his nerves.

"But—"

"But nothing," Mark said sharply, forcing Roger into a large hug.

Roger broke down again whispering, "Its Mimi…I couldn't help it. I started thinking about her and now—."

"Shh," Mark comforted, "Its okay, I'm here. Shh."

The larger man wrapped his arms around Mark's lower back, pressing his head into the smaller man's chest. "Oh Mark," Roger sobbed.

Collins stuck his head in the small bathroom to see what was going on. Mark glanced up, seeing him. "What's wrong?" Collins silently mouthed.

Mark motioned that he could handle things, "I got it," he wordlessly mouthed back to his new roommate.

---

Losing track of time, Mark rocked his lover in his arms on the cold tile floor in mostly silence, occasionally speaking comforting words to him.

"Mark."

With tears stinging his eyes, knowing that his Roger was in pain, Mark looked up to see that Collins had popped his head in the room again.

"Yeah?" Mark replied quietly.

"It's already almost five."

"Wow, is it really?" Mark asked clearing his throat. "You hear that, Rog?" His voice asked softly, "You wanna go get some dinner?"

When Roger didn't reply, Mark smiled. He was asleep. "Do me a favor, would you?"

"Anything," Collins said smiling.

"Help me take him to his bed."

Collins entered the tiny bathroom. The tall man lifted Roger out of Mark's arms. "I got him," he said carrying him to his room.

"Thanks," Mark smiled. After sitting for nearly three hours, he shakily pulled himself to his feet. He could feel his cheeks burning from the heat as he wiped a few drops of sweat from his brow. Fanning his face, he took off his heavy scarf and jacket, tossing them on the couch before following Collins into Roger's room.

Collins had already placed Roger in his bed and was now pulling the sheets up around him.

"Thanks Collins," Mark said again sympathetically.

Collins nodded his head as he straightened up from bending over the short bed. He patted Mark kindly on the back. "I'm gonna go out and pick us up somethin we can eat here. Want anythin in particular?"

"Whatever you get's fine," Mark said happy to be getting food at all.

"Mmk. I'll just run down to the corner deli then. See ya in a bit."

Mark heard Collins open the apartment door and then slide closed. He walked to Roger's bed, sitting on the edge. Silently watching his secret lover sleep, he pushed a strand of fallen hair out of Roger's face. "I love you," Mark had whispered the words so quietly he could barely hear them himself. He bent forward and kissed Roger's sweaty forehead.

Roger shifted in his sleep, revealing the slightest smile.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Chapter 6 is in the works...so please leave me at least three reviews to come back to and I will post as soon as I finish it :D**


	6. The Talk

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: Glad you guys liked the last chapter--here's Chapter 6 for ya! ENJOY!!**

It had been a good half an hour before Collins returned with dinner. Mark had been watching Roger sleep the entire time he was gone.

Hurriedly, Mark got up from Roger's bed and slipped into the bathroom next to the bedroom. Flushing the toilet, as if he'd just used it, Mark opened up the door to greet a food-baring Collins.

"I got Chinese instead. Hope that's cool," Collins said holding up one of the white cartons.

"Yeah, great; I love Chinese food!" Mark answered, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Me too," Collins smiled.

Together the two men cleared off the aluminum kitchen table, setting the food out.

"You didn't get any utensils?" Mark asked looking around.

Collins passed Mark a pair of chopsticks, he found at the bottom of the bag. Mark frowned as he tried to get the sticks to function properly.

Collins picked up his own chopsticks and dove right into his special carton of Vegetarian Chow Mein. He glanced up in Mark's direction, watching the boy struggle with his utensils. Chuckling at Mark's many trials and just as many errors, "Never used chopsticks before, huh?"

"Oh," Mark sheepishly laughed. "I…I actually used to use 'em all the time, but I guess I'm just out of practice." After another unsuccessful attempt he gave up, "Screw it!" Mark tossed the chopsticks aside, taking a dirty fork from the sink. He ran it under the faucet until he was satisfied.

"Here, I know how much you love your Broccoli Beef," Collins pushed a carton toward Mark, nose raised in disgust to the smell of the meat. "I don't know _how _you can eat that shit; it smells terrible."

"No it doesn't. Smells yummy!"

"Yummy?" Collins laughed, "Boy, when'd you start usin words like 'yummy'?"

Mark laughed along, "But it does smell yummy."

"Okay, fine; fine, whatever," Collins said still chuckling, holding up his hand baring his wooden chopsticks in defense. He sighed deeply, "Listen, Mark, we gotta talk."

_Uh-oh_, Mark thought. _Here it comes. _Trying to act like he had no idea what was going through his friend's head, he asked as innocently as he could, "Oh really? What about?"

"You know damn well what I wanna talk about."

Mark sighed and just looked at Collins, knowing he would say what was coming. It wouldn't matter if he tried to avoid the subject; Collins was going to say exactly what was on his mind. "Right," Mark said softly and slowly, giving in.

He started out slow, considering Mark's feelings, "What's goin on with you and Rog?"

Mark looked at Collins blankly for a long moment. He exhaled deeply, answering truthfully, "I dunno."

"Mark—."

"I honestly don't know; it's really confusing," he looked down at his carton.

"Talk to me about it, maybe I can help."

"No," he said sadly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" When Mark's reply was another sigh, Collins had the answer, "It's because of Roger, isn't it?"

Mark lifted his eyes from his food, looked at his friend and nodded slowly.

"So, how long have you known?" Collins pressed on after another minute passed by, neither of the two having said a word.

Mark wasn't exactly sure what Collins was talking about, "Known? Known what?"

"That you love him," Collins said plainly, stating it like it was a fact everyone knew.

"I…I don—." Mark was ready to lie, telling Collins that he didn't love Roger, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He began again, instead, answering honestly, "Since the week before April died." He spoke again a moment later, "How long have _you_ known?"

"Fer a while," Collins admitted.

"How long's a while?"

"A _long _while; you've loved him since grade school, boy."

"But—but that was _ages_ before we moved in together. _Long_ before April and Roger were together!" Mark didn't understand.

"Yeah, it's been a long time. I'm just sorry I didn't talk to you sooner about all this. You two may have gotten together before he got sick if I had intervened earlier."

Mark nodded sadly, looking down at his full carton of Chinese food, "You know? I'm not really all that hungry anymore."

"Mark, you really should eat something. You've been taking care of Roger ever since April died. You've sacrificed so much for him over thuh years. I swear you're thinner every time I come home. Now, eat!"

Mark picked up his fork and he and Collins ate the rest of their meal silently.

While he ate, Mark thought; though about his life. About how April had entered his life so fast and had left it just as quickly. When she died, he'd never seen Roger so depressed, so empty. He thought he'd never see him smile again, until he met Mimi. Mimi Marquez; the very mature, brown-eyed, nineteen-year-old dancer from the Catch Scratch Club that made Roger feel somewhat whole again. She made him sing again, made him believe that he had a life worth living, and most importantly made him smile again. Now that she too was gone, part of Roger was gone again as well.

"It's not fucking fair!" Mark shouted, slamming his fist down on the cold table.

Collins snapped his head up in sudden concern. Furrowing his brow, he asked, "What's not?"

"He's had it so rough!"

Collins knew exactly who Mark was talking about. Roger.

"He's been through hell and all everyone ever tells him is to move on—get over it! Shit!" Mark fell to his knees, continuing to shout through sobs. "First April, now Mimi…Jesus! Roger, how the fucking hell do you get out of bed every morning?"

"It's hard," Roger said softly behind him, standing at his bedroom doorframe.

Mark swiveled on his knees, facing toward him, tears streaming down his face. "Roger," he said quietly, "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Roger replied, tears stinging his eyes.

"How do you do it?" Mark asked sympathetically, needing to know.

Roger drew in a painful breath, "I think of the people who mean the most to me. How they'd feel if I decided to kill myself. I imagine they'd feel like I did when April committed suicide. I think of what Mimi would tell me if she were here." He paused a moment, thinking of the beautiful Latino. "I think of Collins, Maureen, Joanne…Angel…" he glanced up, catching Collins' eyes at the last name he mentioned.

Collins smiled meekly in mourning.

Shifting his gaze back down to the insecure man, he continued his story. "…But Mark, I really think about how you'd deal with it."

"Really?" Mark said as a single tear fell down his pink, wet cheeks. "Why?"

"Why?" Roger echoed, kneeling down in front of Mark, wiping away the stray tear. "You're my best friend, Mark. I wouldn't be able to live without you and I guess I just always assumed it would be the same for you. Selfish thought though, I guess."

"Selfish? No one has _ever _said so many wonderful things to me. Selfish," Mark repeated again, grinning slightly, "you are the most _un_selfish person I know."

Roger took the smaller man into a large bear hug.

"Aww, ain't that cute?" Collins said smiling above them.

Roger and Mark parted to look up at him. Then Mark pulled Roger back into another large embrace.

_I love you, Mark, _Roger thought to himself as he held Mark.

**A/N: I really hope you liked it because I really enjoyed writing it!! Chapter 7 is in the works, but please review--at least 3 reviews before the next chapter will be put up.**


	7. Welcome Back

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys! This chapter took a while to write...but I am pleased with the way it turned out. So anyway, I hope you guys like it!! ENJOY :D**

"Want some of thuh leftover Chinese food, man?" Collins asked Roger who was still sitting entangled in Mark's arms.

"Sure," he choked through a few tears that were still present from earlier. He and Mark broke their comfortable circle to stand up. Helping Mark to his feet, gazing deep into the smaller man's eyes, Roger smiled. His first _real_ smile that didn't come from a funny statement or situation since Mimi had passed away.

Mark returned the smile and placed his arm up around Roger's neck, standing at his right side, "Welcome back, Rog," he said lightly squeezing his friend's broad shoulder.

"It's good to be back," Roger said widening his smile further.

Mark got closer to Roger's face as he spoke, "Anyone ever tell you that you have the cutest dimples when you smile?" He repeated the question Roger had asked him the previous night that had made Mark blush profusely.

Roger too blushed, a bright rosy shade of pink, when asked the question. Both men slid quietly onto a couple of the bar style stools that sat in front of the shiny table.

Collins looked at the two men with a strange, goofy smile attached to his lips that seemed like it would be forever permanent. He passed Roger Mark's rejected chopsticks that sat on the table next to the food containers.

"You _do _know how ta use 'em right?"

Since Roger had been in his room asleep, Collin's joke was lost on him about the earlier situation, "Yeah," he said it almost like a question, taking the thin sticks from him.

"Can you pass me a fortune cookie?" Mark asked, distracting the comedic focus on his ability, or lack there of, to use the wooden utensils.

"Here ya go," Collins said tossing him one of the well-known folded dessert cookies.

Mark opened the wrapper that held the small cookie while his lover and Collins discussed what was left of the food for Roger to eat. Breaking the crunchy cookie apart, he leisurely pulled out the folded piece of paper inside.

"'Keep your heart and mind open," Mark read his fortune aloud, "'and you will find what you seek.'"

"Kinda ironic," Collins laughed quietly to himself.

"What?" Mark asked for clarification.

"I said, 'We need _tonic_!'" was Collins' witty, half smiled response.

_No you didn't_, Mark thought strangely to himself raising his left eyebrow in response.

"I'm gonna go down ta thuh store and get us some. I'll be back in 'bout fifteen," with that Collins was out the door.

Mark looked over at Roger who shrugged and went back to eating his meal. "I haven't had this much food in so long."

"I know; I feel like I'm actually full," Mark said in agreement.

"And it's fresh!" Roger added, playfully slamming his arm into the man sitting beside him.

"Ow!" Mark exclaimed.

"Oh, ow," Roger screeched, impersonating Mark, "I barely touched you."

"I didn't mean, 'ow'….You just surprised me, that's all."

Roger laughed at his roommate, "Yeah, okay; sure Mark."

Mark dramatically rolled his eyes to Roger's comment, returning his focus to his half eaten fortune cookie.

Mark had unknowingly walked right into another trap. Very much like an animal in the wild, Roger's predator instincts took over, carefully contemplating his next move to the innocent prey that sat in a very vulnerable position.

Silently reaching behind him, around Mark's right side, Roger knew the precise place to take down his victim. Roger began inching closer and closer to Mark's thin waist with every passing second until he arrived at the aspired target.

Mark flinched in shock of the sudden hand that was attacking his side. Shaking with laughter, Mark threw his head back. "Stop it, Rog; that tickles!" Standing up quickly only provoked the beast inside Roger.

He stood up, joining Mark. He lifted his hands, cackling, "I've got you now," wiggling his eyebrows up and down in excitement.

Mark could see the spark in Roger's eye that told him to run away, "Eek!" He cried out, thrilled by the joyful sensation. Mark began laughing uncontrollably as he ran throughout the long apartment.

Roger ran behind the smaller man, gaining very quickly on him; Mark still laughing all the while. Grabbing Mark's waist, tickling him from the back, Roger joined in his friend's gleefulness.

Mark pushed his back gently against the larger man, supporting himself as Roger briefly lifted him effortlessly ever so slightly into the air.

Falling softly to the couch with the smaller man still in front of him, the men ended up lying down, one on top of the other.

The smile left the filmmaker's face as he started to feel his cheeks beginning to burn as he lay atop the still smiling ex-rocker. He could feel the warmth of Roger's breath against his ear as he slowly breathed in and out. Mark cleared his throat and started to shift against the larger man.

"Mark?" Roger breathed, "Where ya going?"

He could now feel his cheeks becoming redder at Roger's saddened tone. "I'm just turning over," he answered with a hint of guilt attached in his voice. He allowed himself to turn over onto his stomach, facing his lover, gazing deep into his eyes. Tucking his left hand under his chin as he lay atop Roger's rising and falling chest, he found himself fantasizing about kissing the set of beautiful soft pink lips beneath him.

Hypnotized by Mark's pale crystal blue eyes, Roger lifted his left arm up, silently stroking the side of his roommate's face.

Mark closed his eyes, leaning into the large open hand, lightly cooing in delight at Roger's gentle touch. His eyes immediately snapped open on feeling a surge of electricity race through his tiny body. Roger was kissing him, he didn't know when the other man had decided to do it, but he wasn't about to start complaining.

Roger had felt the sudden urge to fully engulf Mark in another surprise attack. So without giving much other thought to this impulsive feeling, he planted his lips firmly against his friend's.

After recovering from the initial shock of Roger's kiss, Mark relaxed and began enjoying the warmth of the man's lips. They tasted of sweet and sour sauce from his Chicken Chow Mein, "Mmm," he sighed devouring the flavor left on Roger's lips. "You taste like Chinese food," he mumbled, childishly chuckling.

Roger opened his eyes, looking at Mark's hungry expression. "Glad you find me so tasty," he said smiling between kisses.

"Mhmm," Mark sighed in great approval.

With his eyes still closed, Mark placed his right hand underneath Roger's head, stroking his partner's thick hair. Bringing the same hand forward to cup his face, he felt Roger shift under him.

Opening his eyes, Mark felt Roger shift again beneath him. "You uncomfortable Rog?" Mark asked in concern.

"Yeah, a little," Roger said grunting, "Maybe….if I, flip you over," Roger said making it so their positions were more like they had been the day before. Laying side by side, Roger lying partly atop Mark's smaller body, "Much better," he said with a gentle laugh as he stole another kiss from his lover.

Mark now had his right arm up around Roger's neck and had his left hand up cupping Roger's stubbly face, the two continuing to kiss one another very passionately.

Mark let a small moan escape his busy mouth as Roger ran his free hand down his thin side.

The apartment door slowly slid open, startling the two men. Immediately sitting up, the two acted as though nothing had happened.

Collins entered the room, a bottle of tonic in his hand.

"Are you high?" Roger asked, eyeing his friend that had a ridiculous smile playing upon his face.

"I dunno," Collins confessed, "I may as well be."

Roger and Mark looked to each other, both very confused.

"What's _that_ mean?" Mark wanted to know.

"That means, I'm tired, so I'm leavin you two boys alone with dis nice new bottle of tonic," Collins said patting the side of the liquor bottle, setting down on the coffee table in front of them. "And I'm gonna head off ta bed."

"Wha—?" Mark began.

"Night," Collins said cheerfully. Whistling the tune of Atlantic Starr's _Secret Lovers_, Collins headed toward his old room, doing one of his "famous" spins as he reached the door.

The bedroom he had when he had lived in the apartment with Maureen, Benny and the men sitting blankly on the couch a few years before looked almost exactly as he had left it. "Daaamn," he said under his breath, "You guys ever clean? Shit." He stepped around piles of books and papers he had left behind before landing on the grungy, creaky mattress pad, but at least it was better than what he was used to.

---

**A/N: Chapter 8 is in the works...please review! They really are what keeps this fic going!! At least four reviews before I post the next chapter! Thanks**


	8. The Waiting Game

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys--this chapter is actually a little longer than my others, so for those of you who requested longer chapters, you got lucky! haha. ENJOY!!**

"So, uh…that was, um, a little odd," Mark said, his voice shaking slightly.

Roger nervously cleared his throat, "Um, yeah; it…it was."

The two men sat in silence on opposite ends of the couch, both afraid to move or say anything else.

Mark kept trying to secretly eye his roommate without being noticed, not knowing what else to do. _We can make out when no one's here, but we can't even look at each other when someone's here—in a completely different room—this makes no sense! Maybe I should say something; but what?—anything you big doof! How about you tell him you love him? Yeah, that's a great idea—no, Mark, that's a very stupid idea. I gotta tell him something otherwise we're gonna sit here like this 'til morning._

These feelings were a very difficult thought for the ex-rocker to comprehend. _I've only been interested in women before—I think. No, of course I have! So then why do I all of a sudden have feelings for…Mark? I mean, he needs me, sure, just like I need him, but is that enough to base an actual relationship on? Look at him, just sitting there, so cute with his glasses and—wow! Did I just say that Mark looked cute? Shit—I gotta get outta this room before I do something stupid—like kiss him again. I know, I can go to bed; yeah, that's what I'll do._

"Rog—."

"Mark—. "

The feelings shared between the two men rattled off their tongues when they chuckled softly at the way they both spoke each other's names at the same time.

When Mark didn't speak again, Roger took his turn. "I…I think I'm just gonna go to bed too," he said in a soft, very raspy sounding voice, just above a whisper.

Mark looked up at the man who was crossing his path to go to his bedroom. "Stay?" Mark pleaded with the best 'puppy dog eyes' he could do. He had learned that from Maureen.

"What?" Roger asked without needing Mark to repeat himself. "Why do you want me to stay?"

Mark drew in a heavy breath of the chilling night air. "Cause, I'll miss you if you go to bed now."

Roger eyed the small man in front of him, "Mark…is there something you need to tell me? Geez, this is weird." He muttered the last part under his breath thinking that his friend didn't hear it, as he slowly bent down to Mark's eyelevel.

Sighing quietly, at hearing Roger's last sentence, "This is weird for me too, Rog."

Looking down at Mark's response, the larger man sighed, "Really?"

"Well, yeah. Roger, you're not the only one here that's straight. I know you remember Maureen, but remember Nanette?"

Roger let out a slight snicker, "Mark; you and Nanette dated for like two weeks—in like sixth grade."

"It was eighth," Mark said, becoming slightly defensive, "and it was almost a month."

"Big difference," Roger laughed.

"Still," Mark began, "It's weird for me too."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but…that doesn't really make this _any_ easier."

Mark sighed again, "I know." He looked up at the ceiling, where an old white sheet was draped to cover the many cracks and holes in the roof to keep the room from getting too cold during the late hours of the night. "It's just…just—deep down," he returned his eyes to the man in front of him, "I can't help but to think that maybe there's something more here than there used to be. I mean, am—am I crazy? Am I the only one who feels these things?"

Roger sighed heavily as if taking a breath was a difficult task for him. It took all the strength he had inside himself to speak the two easy words, "No Mark." Rising back to his feet, he continued speaking, "There—I said it, ya happy now? You're not wrong, I feel it too, damnit!" Roger hadn't meant to snap, he was just getting frustrated with himself. "I shouldn't feel this way—you're Mark Cohen! You're my best friend…not my goddamn _boy_friend!"

"But Rog—."

"I don't wanna hear it!" Roger said sharply, cutting a stunned Mark off. Nothing's _ever_ gonna happen between us! Face the facts—we are two _straight_ men who just happened to find comfort in each other—that's it! Besides, I'm not over Mimi yet—" Roger then spoke softly again, "I…I can't be over Mimi yet." Roger moved over to sit on the couch; he covered his face with his hands, massaging both his rough middle fingers in a circular pattern over his temples in attempts to rub away the stress he was feeling.

Mark looked blankly at the man who was sitting next to him again, amazed by his bold outburst.

---

_Well, things seem to be going well,_ Collins thought sarcastically to himself as he heard the angry ex-rocker finally stop shouting. On one hand, Collins was happy about the thin walls of the apartment, it made eavesdropping a lot easier because he could hear everything. On the other hand, he could also hear _everything_. Collins tried to think positively; m_aybe they're hugging each other again._

---

Back in the other room, silence had once again fallen over the two.

"I'm going to bed," Mark said standing up, deciding to give up for the night.

Wanting to avoid another argument, Roger nodded, "Yeah, night man."

"Night," was all that was said before the door to the small bedroom closed behind him.

Roger sighed heavily regretting his previous sudden blowup. He knew Mark hadn't deserved to be treated that way; he was just upset. He poured himself a large glass of the tonic that Collins had bought not just a half an hour before. Roger brought the plastic cup slowly to his lips, in hopes of getting drunk enough to forget that this night ever happened. He then thought twice about it and set the cup back down on the coffee table.

"In order for it ta help ya feel better, you have ta drink it," Collins said in his all-knowing tone. He was standing against his doorframe with his arms folded across his chest watching Roger.

Roger looked over to where the voice had come from. "Thanks," Roger said with the sound of sarcasm held in his throat.

Collins pushed himself away from the door and made his way over to the couch to grab a seat next to the ex-rocker. Pouring himself a drink, he asked, "So, what thuh hell happened?"

"Well, Mark said some stuff a—."

"I know WHAT happened—the walls aren't exactly soundproof," Collins said smiling gently. "I mean, _why_ did it happen? I mean, you guys were fine before I left and you guys were even fine when I was back."

Roger glared at the larger man, thinking about what that could have meant.

Collins chuckled childishly, telling Roger his assumptions were correct. "Yup, I could hear the fun you guys was havin up in here, so I went back downstairs fer a bit; had a smoke, talked ta some hot college chicks that thought I was straight—it was awesome man!"

"But—."

"Oh 'but' yourself," Collins brushed off Roger's disgusted look. "Roger, here's my advice. If you want it, take it; if you don't care, then ignore me. But it's good advice, so I'd take it if I were you." Leaning in closely, resting his hand on the smaller man's shoulder, Collins began to give Roger his two-cents. "Thuh boy loves you…"

"He said that?"

"Boy, don't interrupt me when I'm givin advice!"

"Sorry," Roger said with a slight laugh. Collins gave him a disapproving look. Roger wiped the smile off his face, and said more seriously, "Ok, I'm sorry. Please continue oh-wise-one."

Collins continued, "That's better. Now, where was I?"

_He's doing this on purpose! _"Mark loves me," Roger said just above a whisper, rolling his eyes.

"Oh right—" Collins said as he moved his faded black crochet beanie up and down, scratching his itchy, sweating head. "—Mark loves ya man, I know ya know he does. He's just too shy ta say somethin; just like you are."

"Collins, I don't—"

"What is it with you two?" Collins asked, but continued with his thoughts as if the question was never asked. "Just 'cause you guys ain't gay, you gotta get all weird and homophobic-like when ya think that there might be thuh _slightest_ possibility that there _could_ be something more than just friendship here. I mean, you've been friends with _me _for a long time. Are you ashamed of _me_ when we're around others? If ya are, you're doin a damn good job of hidin it, 'cause you always seem fine ta me."

"It has nothing to do with being or not being gay," Roger admitted more to himself than to Collins.

"Then enlighten me, what _does _it have to do with?"

Roger didn't say anything in response to Collins' question.

"I think y'er scared, Rog."

"Of what?" Roger asked dryly.

"Oh, I dunno…maybe of getting hurt, of getting too close to Mark, of actually admitting that you might actually have feelings for Mark; the possibilities are endless, bro." Collins finished his glassful of tonic and set it down on the coffee table. "Alright dude, think about what I said; sleep on it. I'll see ya in thuh morning."

"Yeah," Roger said quietly as his new roommate got up from the couch. "Hey Collins?"

"Yeah?" He said turning around at his door.

"Thanks," Roger smiled meekly.

"Hey, what are big brothers for?" Collins asked smiling. "Night, man."

"Good night."

Collins walked into his room and closed his squeaky door.

He stood up and stretched his long arms. Walking into his own room, Roger closed the door behind him. After taking off his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his boxers, he climbed into the cold bed. The ex-rocker fell asleep quickly that night into a deep, dreamless slumber.

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter 9 is in the works--please leave me reviews, as I will not post the next chapter until I get at least four reviews. THANKS!**


	9. Help Me to Help Him

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: Okay guys...I am sooo sorry. I went to Disneyland this week and then got a major case of writer's block! Hate when that happens! LOL. I hope you like this chapter--hopefully I will be able to update frequently like I was before. Enjoy!**

**---**

Mark was sitting up with his legs crossed under him in the small bed that sat against the wall of his cold room. His mind wandered aimlessly around all thoughts concerning Roger and his feelings. _Damn it. Why is this so hard? I mean, seriously…why can't he just admit his feelings? It's stupid—we're grown men. _Mark felt a chill vibrate down his scrawny spine as he continued, developing negative thoughts. _Maybe Roger doesn't love me. Maybe he meant what he said when he told me that we just found comfort in each other. If that's the case—why do I still love him? That's a dumb question, Mark—the better question is what's not to love about him? _He let out a soft chuckle to himself. _But is Collins right? Have I really been in love with Roger since junior high? There's no way, I woulda felt it…well…I guess, maybe I did, a little._

Mark let a sigh escape his mouth as he pulled his dark navy blue sweatshirt around himself to keep as much of his body heat in. _What's wrong with me? Roger's my best friend and a guy…but…a really wonderful guy. Mimi—why'd you leave him? He was so happy when he was with you…why'd you leave him…why'd you leave us?_

Mark glanced out his small window, up toward the starry sky and spoke so softly that he could barley hear the words himself. Even though he was baptized Jewish, Mark normally didn't turn to God, at all. But he felt as though he needed someone who held his destiny. "Roger misses Mimi, God, I know he does. He misses April too. I don't know how to help him anymore. Please guide me; help me do the right thing. God, I just love him so much, I can't help it…but I don't know what to do anymore. And I know that might be wrong or looked down upon, but…Its only love, God, its only love."

He sighed again, continuing to look out his window. A single tear slowly rolled down his warm, pink cheek as he came to the realization that he would always be alone in life. Even if he and Roger did eventually get together, which was unlikely, Roger had HIV. Even with his medication, he probably wouldn't be around too much longer.

"Roger," Mark tearfully whispered into the night air as he thought of loosing his best friend sooner than he should.

"Yeah?" Came a raspy, quiet response from the door.

Mark quickly turned his head at the surprising sound of his roommate. Wiping away the tears from his eyes, he stammered, "Rog, you…you're here…what are you doing up?"

Roger smiled a half smile at hearing his friend's stunned tone. "Well, to be honest, I don't really know." He sighed, thinking about what Collins had told him earlier on, _"Mark loves ya man, I know ya know he does. He's just too shy ta say somethin; just like you are."_ He looked up, facing toward Mark's tearstained face. "You been crying?"

Mark cleared his voice, "No," he said as plainly as he could.

"Mark, you're not a very good liar," Roger chuckled, beginning to enter the small bedroom. "Besides, your face is all red and your eyes are all puffy."

Mark sighed in defeat, "Fine; yes, I've been crying…ya happy?"

"No," Roger started, "why would I be _happy_ that you were crying?"

He looked up, meeting Roger's sympathetic, hazel green eyes as the larger man inched closer to his bed.

Sitting on the edge of his roommate's bed, Roger gazed deeply into the hypnotizing, crystal blue eyes across from him. "What's the matter Mark? You can tell me."

"You wouldn't understand," Mark sniffed, looking away sadly.

"You've always helped me. Maybe I can finally help you," Roger tried again, "come, on, try me; I won't bite."

Mark laughed out loud, cracking a small smile. _Actually, _y_ou could if you wanted to,_ he thought amusingly to himself.

Roger, confused by Mark's sudden change in demeanor asked, "Now, what's so funny?" He eyed the smaller man, sizing him up and down, staring curiously at him.

"Oh, nothing," Mark said still smiling ever so slightly.

"Okay then." Roger watched his friend sitting, shaking from the cold night air while Collins' advice continued to echo through his head. _Does Mark really love me? He can't…can he?_ Roger crawled up the short bed, sitting next to Mark. "Here," he said kindly, putting his arm around the shivering boy.

"Thanks," Mark said between his clattering teeth. Taking in Roger's rustic scent, Mark leaned into the ex-rocker's warm body.

Roger felt the same odd, tingly sensation as he had felt early that night as Mark buried his head into his chest, trying to keep warm. Snuggling into his body, Roger could feel Mark's trembling breath and was finally able to see how Mark could maybe love him. Wrapping his other arm around the smaller man, Roger held him tight.

Mark thought about his conversation with Collins. _Collins knew that I loved him, does Roger know too? _"Rog?" Mark asked in an uneasy manner.

"Hmm?" Roger breathed.

"What are you thinking about?"

Roger swallowed hard, "Can we start with a less difficult question?"

Mark felt the vibrations in Roger's chest as he spoke the witty response.

Roger sighed heavily as he thought about how to answer Mark, "I guess I'm thinking about you…" he croaked softly, "…and me," he added after a moment of silence. "Why? What are you thinking about?"

Mark squeezed his eyes shut as the larger man answered. Smiling silently, he pulled away from Roger's strong arms and gazed up into his eyes. He parted his lips, revealing a larger, sweeter smile.

Roger smiled back in empathy; he knew that Mark was thinking along the same lines as he was.

"I'm thinking," he began, sounding a little childish, "I might…wanna…maybe…" Mark trailed off, deeply considering Roger's feelings.

"Its okay," Roger said, seeming to piece Mark's puzzle together.

"What?" Mark asked in slight confusion. _Does he really know what I'm thinking? Does he know that I want to kiss him?_

"Mark," Roger began, "its okay…" he repeated, "its weird, but…its okay."

"Really?" Mark asked in hopes that Roger really understood his intentions. "But I thought…you said that we were just friends who—."

"Found comfort in each other," Roger finished, smiling at Mark.

"Well…yeah," Mark said with a slight frown.

Roger sighed, "I was upset. I didn't know what to make of these feelings, but I know now. I know what I am feeling for you is real. I know that what we share is something special."

"But what about all that stuff you said about—?"

"Forget about what I said, Mark. I love you, I always have. I was just too busy to notice or to care or, I dunno. All I know is that I do, I love you…"

Mark's smile immediately returned as more tears stung his eyes, "Really?" He asked again in disbelief.

Roger nodded silently gazing at the man in front of him.

"I love you too, Rog." Childishly laughing, he continued, "Oh god, I love you so much." Pressing his lips firmly into his roommate, Mark felt his heart quicken with desire.

Roger parted his mouth, devouring Mark's intense, wonderful kiss. Roger felt as high as a kite as his heart began pounding with his rising excitement. No heroine high had ever felt as good as this moment.

"I'll be right back," Roger breathed as he stopped the passionate kiss, pushing the filmmaker off of him.

Mark asked out of breath, "Why? Where are you going?"

Roger got up off the bed, shaking from the intense rush. "Don't worry," he sighed heavily, "I'll be back in just a sec—" he kissed him quickly, "Hold those lips." With that he left the small, poorly lit room.

Mark watched disappointedly after his lover, heart still pounding loudly all the while. He could feel himself getting warm now so he took off his sweatshirt and tossed it to the floor. He turned around on the bed and propped himself up against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Roger reentered the tiny room, bearing a wide, irresistible smile. He walked quickly over to Mark's bed, tossing the small package on the small, sad excuse for a night stand. "Collins is out cold," he said smiling, "he's snoring and everything."

"Good," Mark said joining Roger in his smile, "he's the soundest sleeper I know."

"Yup," Roger sneered in agreement. "Now, where were we?"

---

**A/N: Chapter 10 should be up hopefully before the end of the weekend:D But like always, I will not post until I get at least four reviews--so please review if you wanna see this story continued. Thanks!**


	10. More Than Comfort

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: This chapter contains MALE-SEX...so if it offends you, don't read this chapter!**

LAST LINE OF THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER: "Yup," Roger sneered in agreement. "Now, where were we?"

**---**

"I think…we were right about—." Roger's kiss cut him off, "Yeah, we were right about there," Mark smiled widely as he and Roger parted.

Roger wrapped his left leg around Mark's outstretched legs, pulling himself down onto the bed, kissing him very deeply, in an almost overpowering way. Now straddling the smaller man below him with most of his body, Roger seemed to dominate this joy ride.

Mark's cheeks began to brighten as he could feel Roger's shaft harden with anticipation through his thinning pajama pants.

"Rog," Mark squeaked.

Thinking it had been a sexual moan, Roger pressed on, continuing to deepen the kiss.

"Roger!" Mark said louder as he tried to push the larger man off him.

Pulling their lips apart, Roger looked at the man across from him. "What is it Mark?" Roger breathed, trying to sound affectionate, but it came out sounding a little more annoyed. Their moment was being interrupted for the third time that day, but not by Collins, but by someone that was in on the action, so to speak.

Mark could see the disappointment and eagerness on the larger man's face as he waited for what he had to say. "Well…" he started, trying to swallow the nervousness he felt in his throat.

"What is it Mark?" Roger asked again, only quicker as he became more anxious.

"I…Well, I've…I've never…never really done this before," he said lowering his head, not meeting Roger's eyes.

"This being what?" Roger huffed.

"You know," Mark said uncomfortably.

"Oh," Roger chuckled softly, not meaning to offend Mark.

Mark looked up at Roger's face, looking for a bit of sympathy, which he was not receiving. "Rog," he pleadingly whined.

"I'm sorry," Roger said trying to conceal his smile. "Ever? Not even with Maureen?"

"She wanted to…and I wanted to, but when it came down to it…I chickened out."

"How?" Was all the ex-rocker could offer in response.

"I dunno, I just did," Mark sighed as he looked into his lover's eyes. "I'm a virgin, okay? I'm sorry if that disappoints you or makes you wanna leave…but I just thought you should know."

"Well," Roger said in a more serious tone, "I'll tell ya something…it definitely doesn't disappoint me…it actually kinda makes this more exciting…I get to devirginize you," he said with a goofy grin playing upon his lips. "And why would I wanna leave? I love you, remember?" He paused for a moment and then continued. "But it's completely up to you, as difficult as that is for me to say," Roger groaned as he spoke. "Mark, there's only one question…and only you can answer it…do you wanna do this?"

Mark silently gazed up at the man he loved, knowing in his heart that he wanted this more than anything in the world. "It's up to me?"

_Great,_ Roger thought to himself,_ I give him the choice, and now we're not gonna. He got me all hard and everything. _"Yup," he said with even more difficulty, forcing a small smile.

_He's so sweet to consider my feelings like this, _Mark thought,_ even though I know he wants to do this. What an amazing man I've got._ He smiled up at Roger and spoke softly, "I wouldn't wanna be doing anything else."

"Oh thank God," Roger said, nearly bursting at Mark's shy response.

Mark laughed softly at Roger's almost explosive reaction. He slowly lifted his hands to his face and removed his black framed glasses. He set them down on the nightstand beside the small, dim lamp, his eyes never once leaving Roger's. Breathing heavily, Mark realized that this was the thing he had wanted most in his life. "I love you, Roger Davis," he whispered.

"And I love you, Mark Cohen." Roger raised his large hands to cup Mark's small face. Planting a small, intimate kiss on his right cheek, directly below his eye, Roger slowly moved about the entire face, filling it with tiny kisses. Making his way around, he was finally coming up on Mark's luscious lips. Roger let his fingers trace the set of beautiful pink lips slowly and sexily, driving Mark insane.

His head lay softly back against the wall, his eyes closed, feeling Roger's torturing fingers against his very ready lips. Feeling Roger's hot breathe, as he used his tongue to lick and nibble at his mouth slightly. Mark was an amateur when it came to anything related to sex. The most he had ever experienced was the occasional make out session with Maureen; and even that hadn't been that often. He was pretty sure she had been cheating on him. He didn't see how he could have satisfied her when he was too in love with Roger to really be with her.

Roger was very different from Mark; he was far from inexperienced at this. He'd never been with a man, but had wondered what it would be like. It was better than he could have ever imagined. He could feel thoughts of want and desire taking over his body. He could feel the need to be closer to Mark, could feel the tension building up inside him ready to erupt at any moment. He consumed Mark's tiny mouth hungrily, wanting more.

Mark felt the hormonal instincts take over, lapping up Roger's taste in its entirety. Stealthily, Mark slid his small hands over Roger's toned muscles that he could feel through his thin white t-shirt.

Roger helped to move the process along, by parting their lips for only a brief moment as to remove his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the ground. Plunging his hands underneath Mark's thicker shirt, Roger readied to do repeat the motion. The larger man slid his rough hands up Mark's small torso, pushing the shirt up, until it reached its stopping point.

Mark automatically raised his arms above his head as Roger finished removing the unwanted garment.

Kissing, playfully biting, and gently sucking Mark's neck, down his small frame, Roger felt himself harden further with his growing anticipation. Arriving at his chest, Roger teasingly began to lick Mark's hardened left nipple, sucking and nibbling at it hungrily.

Mark took Roger's head in both his hands, bringing him back up to his face; he needed the man's mouth.

He was back up to his partner's lips again, pressing his wet tongue into the filmmaker's very open, eager mouth. Still kissing passionately, he tauntingly began to slide his right hand down across Mark's chest toward his stomach.

As he received the many sensual kisses, he could feel Roger's hand lightly caressing its way down his body. Arching his back in ecstasy, Mark let a shaky moan escape his mouth.

"Rrrog," Mark's breath rattled in pure delight.

His curious hand had entered Mark's pajama pants, and was slowly making its way toward the lower, sensitive region of his lover. Roger stroked and massaged the much stiffened genitals as he kissed Mark's chin, slowly inching his way down his neck.

Mark's soft, pale skin glistened in the light of the room where Roger's saliva was still ever present. Collapsing into the single pillow on his bed, Mark laid in a very ready position.

Kissing and playfully biting Mark, gradually working his way down the scrawny man's chest to his stomach. When his mouth reached the baggy set of dark red plaid pants, the larger man placed a hand on either side of the man's small hips, atop the cotton material.

Tugging at the elastic waistband was nearly enough to make Mark cum. Arching his back instinctively to aid his lover, Mark felt himself begin to shake uncontrollably with pleasure.

Pulling them over his partner's very stiffened member, Roger placed many delightful, wet kisses the entire way down Mark's legs.

At the feel of the larger man's hot, wet tongue and breath, Mark moaned, feeling his body jerk excitedly in sheer satisfaction.

After a long couple of minutes of the sweet torture, Roger finally reached his destination. He yanked the pajama pants little by little over his lover's feet, adding them and his own boxers to the pile of clothes that were spread across the dark, dingy hardwood floor. Roger then began crawling back up the smaller man's frame, sexily dragging himself across his legs, sheepishly smiling all the while.

Mark watched his lover, feeling himself harder further at the feel of his lover's penis touching his leg. The sight of Roger's awkward, yet adorable smile was also driving him crazy, taunting him; he was so beautiful.

"You ready?" Roger casually breathed, sitting atop him.

The smaller man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, nodding quickly as he cracked a smile.

Never leaving Mark's eyes, his right hand reached the nightstand. Fumbling around until he found the small package he tossed onto it only about ten minutes earlier. He raised the bag to his lips, ripping it open like an animal with his teeth.

"Let me do it," Mark said, his voice trembling slightly.

Roger passed his partner the circular object that he had already removed from the purple container.

Slipping the condom onto the larger man's very hard, thick cock, Mark began to feel somewhat nervous.

Tilting his head up toward the ceiling, closing his eyes, a chill ran up the ex-rocker's spine as he felt Mark's hands on him. He ran his hands up the smaller man's chest, pressing them firmly against the front of his shoulders. He opened his eyes, rolling them from the amazing sensation, returning his eyes to his lover.

Mark wore a look of concern on his face.

"Don't worry," Roger said throatily, "I'll be gentle. I promise."

Mark nodded, completely trusting his lover.

As the larger man turned Mark onto his stomach, both men exhaled very heavily, awaiting the next step.

Pressing his large hand underneath Mark's chest, pulling him into a more accessible position, Roger prepared himself for the actual sex. Neither roommate having enough money for any kind of lubricant, Roger put his index and middle fingers together, placing them in front of the nervous filmmaker's mouth.

Mark intuitively opened his mouth; welcoming them inside, sucking on them, they created their own salivary lube.

Taking back his hand, gently placing it inside his lover, Roger prepared him for what was next to come. Adding a third finger made the smaller man slightly wince. Roger slid them in and out of his partner, hoping that it would ease the pain. Not being able to wait a moment longer, the larger man started to enter the man's small anal hole.

Mark felt himself start to tense, as his walls tightened around Roger's foreign shaft.

Placing his right hand around the smaller man, Roger massaged his partner's balls, trying to relax him. Pulling his cock in and out of the filmmaker, the larger man found it easier and more pleasure some. He pressed himself into him, kissing the lower back of his lover.

Finally able to feel the pleasure while Roger stroked his cock as he reentered him over and over again, Mark could feel himself reaching his climax.

"Rrroger," he moaned in ecstasy, arching his back into the thick shaft, as each of the contractions hit.

Roger could feel Mark's walls tightening around him as he too reached his climax, "Ohh, Mmmark," his voice shook. After slowly slipping out of his roommate, Roger collapsed onto the small bed.

Falling onto his chest, Mark followed the larger man's previous movements. He turned over onto his side, lying partially on Roger's stomach.

Both men laid panting, drenched in sweat.

Roger pulled the condom off his sweaty balls examining it closely to make sure it hadn't broken during their festivities. Happy to see that it hadn't, Roger tossed it on the ground along with everything else.

"Well fuck," Mark huffed.

Roger let out a wheezy laugh at his lover's response. "Is that a good or bad 'fuck'?"

"So good," Mark said, turning his body fully onto his side, gazing up at the ex-rocker.

He smiled, still breathing very heavily. He bent forward on the bed, reaching into the pocket in his boxers and pulled out a small, rectangular box. Putting his mouth up to the box, he expertly removed a single cigarette. He then replaced the box, removing his lighter. Lighting the rolled paper, he breathed in heavily, inhaling all its wonderful riches. Returning to his place beside the smaller man, he exhaled, blowing the smoke away from Mark's face.

"You know I don't like it when you do that, Rog," Mark said sounding concerned.

Roger sighed, "I know, sorry," he said as he kissed the man's sweaty forehead.

Mark relaxed against the larger man's chest, taking the cigarette from his lover. He took a small drag from it, coughing as the smoke entered his lungs.

"Mark," Roger said confused by his partner's actions, "You have asthma, you shouldn't be smoking."

Mark forced a smile, "Just wanted to see what the big deal was."

Roger laughed, putting the cigarette out, "You are too much."

Both men laid silently in each other's embrace for only about ten minutes before feeling tired enough to sleep.

"I love you Rog," the smaller man said quietly, squeezing his lover into a hug.

"I love you too, Mark."

**---**

**A/N: Well...this is my first attempt at writing a story about a gay couple...so this was definitely my first attempt at writing a love scene with it! HAHA, hope you liked it and it wasn't too confusing. Anyways, chapter 11 is currently being worked on, so the sooner I get four more reviews, the sooner it'll go up:D**


	11. What's Wrong With Mark?

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

SUMMARY: This story focuses around the characters Mark Cohen and Roger Davis. If you are offended of the two as a couple, you will not like this fic so don't read it! If you are a fan of these two or if you are curious to see if you would be—read! ENJOY and please comment; I love to know what you think. Feel free to speak your mind, don't hold back! THANKS :D

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!!

**A/N: I am glad you guys liked my last chapter! Sorry this chapter took me so long to update...but it's a little longer, so hopefully you will forgive me! haha. ENJOY!!**

---

Mark had the largest smile playing upon his lips, as he pushed his arms out flat to either side of him, stretching. Not feeling a body next to him, he looked to his left.

"Rog?" He asked the air. No reply; he was alone. "Rog?" Mark tried again, louder as he sat up in bed, covered by a single white sheet.

Roger barely heard the smaller man call his name. He looked up from _The Village Voice_, Alphabet city's twenty-five cent newspaper. Worried about Mark, he quickly got up, tossing the paper on the aluminum table where he had been previously sitting.

"What's wrong," he asked his lover as he rushed into the small bedroom.

"Nothing," Mark huffed in response, "I just didn't know where you were."

Roger gave him a strange look. Sounding a bit annoyed with the scare Mark had given him for no reason, he said, "I was in the kitchen."

"Oh," Mark said, weakly smiling. "I guess that's a good thing, then." The man nodded his head, agreeing with his own logic.

"Yeah," Roger sighed, "I guess it is." Roger left the small doorway, making his way back out to the kitchen.

"Rog," Mark spoke again.

Peaking his head back in his lover's room, "Yeah?" Roger asked, still slightly irritated.

Mark smiled, "Never mind."

Starting to get worried again, Roger asked, "What's wrong Mark?"

Mark exhaled a painful sigh.

Roger knew that sigh all too well; Mark wasn't one to express his feelings right away, but had lots of them. "Mark?" He began, "You wanna talk to me about it? What ever it is, we'll get through it together." He walked into the smaller man's room, with an understanding expression playing upon his face.

"Well, you may wanna sit down," Mark said as he lightly patted the spot in the small bed next to him.

"Mark, this sounds serious," Roger said, now really worried. Sitting down, Roger spoke sympathetically, "Now, tell me…what's this all about?"

Sighing in the same fashion as he did just a moment before, Mark looked up at Roger's very nervous face. "Rog, I love you…you know that. And I've just been thinking…" he took another slow breath of the dirty air. "...I've seen how you lost April…and Mimi…and…"

Roger dazed off, reminiscing his past. He missed April and Mimi terribly, but Mark had always been there for him. He had always been there for him in a way that was different from everyone else. He was there long before anyone else even entered his life; he really was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. He had helped him through withdrawal _both_ times, helped him get over the loss of both April _and_ Mimi, helped him to understand what living was all about after he had forgotten…

"…Rog," Mark's words pulled him from his thoughts, "I don't wanna lose you like you lost Mimi and April," a single tear rolled down Mark's cheek. "That may seem selfish, but I just love you so much."

Wiping away Mark's tear, Roger looked into his partner's blue eyes. "I'm not going anywhere for a good while," he smiled.

"You don't know that," Mark said gently as more tears started to well up in his eyes. "I mean, any day, that damn virus could take you from me…and then I would be alone again. I don't know if I could live with that kind of heartache."

Lowering his hand from Mark's small face, Roger looked distant, "So…what are you saying? You…you wanna break up?"

"No, that's not what I mean," Mark said as he lowered his head.

"Then what _are _you saying?"

"I'm saying that…I love you, I always will and I know that I will." Mark sighed, bringing his eyes back up to meet Roger's. "I guess what I am trying to say is—."

"Hey guys?" Collins said on entering the small room, "Thur's someone here ta see ya."

Mark looked away again, disappointed at the sudden end of their conversation.

"Okay, we'll be out in a minute Col," Roger said, "Mark was going to tell me something."

Mark looked up, "Don't worry about it, Rog, I'll tell ya about it later," forcing a small smile.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Mark sighed, "I'm sure."

"Okay," Roger said. Turning his focus back to Collins, he asked, "So, who's here?"

"Hey guys!" An all too familiar, high-pitched squeal came from behind Collins.

"What's she doing here?" Mark muttered under his breath.

Roger scratched his head of hair, glancing down, chuckling slightly, "Hey Maureen."

Mark looked away from the door, mumbling a soft hello. The natural red-auburn, curly haired, big brown-eyed beauty swiftly made her way over toward her ex-boyfriend.

"Hey Marky," she squeaked, sitting on Mark's bed.

"Hey," Mark said shyly, feeling the embarrassment burn his cheeks.

"What's wrong Pookie?" Maureen asked in her awkward highly spirited concern.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "Lemme get dressed, okay? I'll be right out."

"Sure!" She said as a large smile crept its way across her face.

Maureen and Roger stood up from either side of the small bed and joined Collins at the door. Collins struck up a conversation with Maureen, bringing her into the kitchen. Roger looked at his lover sympathetically as he began shutting the door.

"Rog," Mark whispered.

"Yeah?" He whispered quietly in response.

Mark got up from his bed and walked over to where Roger stood in the doorway. He looked at the larger man in front of him, nervously playing with his hands.

Roger silently slipped back inside the smaller man's room, closing the door gently behind him. He pulled Mark into a sincere hug, stroking the back of his neck. "What's wrong?" He asked, sensing Mark's feelings.

"I dunno, Rog," Mark whimpered. He pulled his head away from Roger's shoulder to look into his eyes.

Roger wiped away the filmmaker's stray tear with his thumb, looking deep into his eyes. He saw so much love and yet, so much fear too.

---

Everyone could sense it, Mark was not himself today. He was acting very odd, almost like he wasn't all there.

"Dude, what's wit you taday?" Collins asked in concern.

"Nothing—nothing's wrong!" Mark shouted. "Will everyone just please leave me alone?!"

Maureen stared at her ex-boyfriend. He had never once blown up like that when she was with him; something was going on, she just didn't know what.

"I'm going for a walk," Mark huffed, after wrapping his scarf around his neck. Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he left without another word.

Roger, who sat in a stool by the aluminum kitchen table, collapsed his head into his hands and sighed.

"Daaamn…what thuh hell happened last night, man?" Collins asked the ex-rocker.

---

Mark walked. He walked fast. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to go somewhere, anywhere.

_Who the hell does Maureen think she is?—Coming back into our lives like she still cares about us. That bitch hasn't really cared about me since before we broke up. She's only ever cared about what I could do for her, not who I am. Oh, she makes me so angry sometimes._

He didn't know how or why, but he ended up in front of the apartments on Avenue B. He exhaled sharply and buzzed number 243.

After a moment, there was the sound of a low pitched woman's voice, "Yeah?"

"Joanne—hi…Ya got a sec?"

After another moment, Joanne asked, "Mark?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, I…I guess." The loud buzzing rattled Mark's eardrums as he pushed the thick glass apartment door open.

---

Maureen put her hand to her mouth, "You and…and Marky?!"

"Yeah," Roger sighed, regretting almost instantly for telling her.

"Wow—I never woulda thought that!"

"Really?" Collins asked, glancing in her direction.

"Well…maybe not _never_, but I just didn't really see that happening." She smiled her very toothy, childish grin, "But I am very happy for you guys."

"Thanks," Roger said quietly. Before he knew it, he had Maureen's arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

---

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Joanne called from her small apartment kitchen.

"I'm good, thanks," Mark replied politely from his seat on the white leather couch.

Joanne came out of the kitchen with two tall glasses of iced tea in her hands anyway. She set them on two coasters that laid atop an off-white lace doily that covered the elongated, rectangular coffee table. Sitting down next to Mark, she looked at him with a puzzled face.

"So, what's up Mark? You _never_ just stop by unannounced like this."

Mark sighed, "I'm…well," he looked as though he might burst. He loosened the scarf around his neck so that he could breathe a little easier. "I'm having a little problem," his voice shook.

"What sort of problem?" Joanne asked as she took a sip of her iced tea.

Joanne was very easy for Mark to talk to. Her voice had a calming effect on him, which allowed him to feel like he could open up.

"Well…" he gulped down the lump in his throat. "You see, Roger and I have been…well, lately we've been…we're kinda, sorta involved, kinda," he repeated nervously.

"Really?" Joanne asked with a smile. "That's great."

"You think so?" Mark asked, unsure.

"You don't?" Joanne was confused.

"Well, I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure." He glanced down, leaving her eyes. He cleared his throat, "It's just…Roger's HIV positive, he's gonna die before I'm ready for him to and I don't think I can go through that. I mean, I know that I'm his friend and that I'd have to go through that just the same, but now it's different somehow."

"Oh Mark, you can't think of that. You have to think of the good times you two _will_ share together. And who knows? Roger could be around a good long time more."

"Yeah, that's what he said, but…what if he's not?"

"Mark, the only thing I can tell you is to take it one day at a time. That's the best _any_ of us can do." Mark wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Joanne was speaking from experience.

The small man looked at the woman in front of him, "I wanna be there for him, I really do. But...I'm scared Joanne."

"Scared? Scared of what?"

"Of everything…I'm afraid that he'll get sick and I won't be able to take care of him. I'm afraid that we'll break up and never be friends again, but most of all, I am afraid of losing him and being alone for the rest of my life."

"Oh Mark, you're never alone—you have me, Collins, Maur—."

"Don't say her name," Mark sharply cut Joanne off.

She nodded silently, "Right."

"You mind if I use your bathroom?"

Motioning her hands toward the bathroom, "No, go right ahead."

---

"I dunno guys," Roger sighed.

"Well, have you tried talking to him?" Collins asked.

_Ring! Ring!_

"I'll get it!" Maureen squealed excitedly, heading toward the phone.

"God she's annoying me today," Roger muttered to Collins.

The larger man just nodded in silent agreement.

"Mark, Roger and Collins' place!" she cheerfully spoke into the receiver.

"Maureen?"

"Joanne," Maureen's once excited pitch, now shook nervously. She hadn't spoken to her ex in almost two weeks.

Roger felt his heart jump at the sound of Maureen's tone. It had something to do with Mark, he could feel it. He got up and raced to his bedroom.

Collins looked up toward the woman in the apartment from his place at the kitchen table, glancing back at Roger bearing a smile. "Rog?"

"In here."

The larger man got up from the table, "What are ya doin?"

Pulling on his black leather jacket, he spoke hurriedly, "I'm going over to Joanne's."

"Why?"

Exhaling deeply, pressing by Collins, he walked out his bedroom door toward the apartment door. Over his shoulder, he replied, "Mark's over there."

"How do ya know?" He shouted, following after him out of the loft.

"I just know him, that's all."

Collins gave up on following Roger. He reentered the loft apartment to find a dumbfounded Maureen. She was sitting on the couch, hugging her legs tightly against her body, rocking back and forth.

_Drama queen,_ Collins thought to himself, rolling his eyes. But since he was a genuine person, he'd ask what was wrong; he always did. Sitting down beside the curly haired woman, he asked gently, "What seems ta be thuh matter here?"

She seemed to snap out of the trance she had been in, looking up at Collins. "Who does she think she is? Calling us like that."

"Uh, Maureen…this isn't exactly _yer_ apartment. Joanne was hopin ta reach Roger."

"Yeah, but—."

He gave her a disapproving look, which in itself told Maureen all she needed to know.

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"That's better," he smiled.

"Thanks, sweetie."

"For you? Anytime," he said reaching out to hug her.

---

"Roger," Joanne said as she opened her apartment door, "Thanks for coming."

"Yeah," he said, smiling very meekly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good."

"Where is he?"

She opened up the door wide, allowing Roger inside.

---

**A/N: Hope this chapter wasn't too confusing with all the going back and forth. Please review--I will not post the next chapter until I get FIVE reviews this time! hahaha.**


	12. Mark Reveals All

**"A New Light"** – A FanFiction by: Courtney

SUMMARY: This story focuses around the characters Mark Cohen and Roger Davis. If you are offended of the two as a couple, you will not like this fic so don't read it! If you are a fan of these two or if you are curious to see if you would be—read! ENJOY and please comment; I love to know what you think. Feel free to speak your mind, don't hold back! THANKS :D

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of RENT—but I wish I did! But they belong to the late genius, Jonathan Larson. This fic was made for entertainment purposes only!

**A/N: Okay...I think I owe EVERYONE an explanation for my LOOOOOONG absence from FanFiction. I have been super busy with my own life. I just got married in June (2011) and could not be happier. No excuse for the other yes, FOUR YEARS, except that "life happened." Anyway, I am so sorry I deprived you all from this Mark/Roger fic. I promise to get them out as soon as I can. I will finish this fic this year. Promise! :D So, without further delay...**

Roger looked quickly from one side of the apartment to the other in search of Mark, paranoid as to what he might find. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his roommate's profile through the clear glass of Joanne's sliding back door. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, Roger paused a moment before opening the door. Mark was just sitting there, all alone. He was staring at what appeared to be nothing of importance and anxiously nibbling at his lower lip. Both things of which Roger knew meant that Mark was deep in thought.

Mark sat comfortably across the end corners of Joanne's porch railing. His knees were pulled in toward his chest while his arms wrapped them, supporting his weight. _I should really go back home. I've gotta talk to Roger..._

Pulling him from his thoughts was the sudden sound of the sliding glass door as it was pulled against its frame. Roger cleared his throat, not wanting to startle the perched filmmaker.

"Hey," Mark said softly toward the adjacent apartment buildings, not looking back to see him. He knew Roger stood behind him; he didn't need to turn around.

"So?" Roger asked huffily. "You mind telling me the hell is going on here? Why did you run off like that? Is it something Maureen said? Collins? ...Me?" Roger felt a lump rising in his throat as he added the last to the lot of names.

Mark's head snapped up to finally look toward Roger, "No," he said sincerely. "No, Rog, it's completely, 110 percent, not you, okay?"

"Well, what then?" Roger asked in response. He pulled himself up onto the vacant ledge of the painted white wooden railing, next to Mark. Clenching his teeth in frustration, Roger folded his arms across his chest, he realized, very much like his father did when he, himself was a child and in trouble. Shoving the thought to the side, he spoke sternly, "I really wish you'd quit playing this damn pity game. It's getting old pretty fast, Mark. Now tell me what's wrong."

Mark had every intention of telling Roger exactly what was on his mind earlier. He'd hated all the interruptions. He had just gotten upset and needed to clear his head first. Maureen waltzing in like she owned the place really ticked Mark off. Collins living there now, unfortunately, made things a little different and awkward for him, especially since Mark and Roger became a "thing". It was just all bad-timing. "Ouch," he said suddenly in pain. He glanced down at the filling red blob on his thumb. Picking at his cuticles was a bad habit he'd developed somewhere in his youth. He lifted his hand to his mouth to rid it of the rusty tasting substance.

"I told you to stop doing that," Roger said in a caring, yet _I told you so_, manner. "You'd think you liked making yourself bleed."

"I'm sorry," Mark apologized.

"Well, it's your skin, dude." Roger realized they were quickly getting off the subject at hand. But before he could say anything, Mark caught Roger's eyes. He looked at him in a way that felt as though he was gazing deep into his soul. The look made the hairs on the back of Roger's neck stand and he wasn't sure whether it was a good or bad feeling.

"Listen, Rog, I know we need to talk. And I'm sorry I haven't exactly been...well, myself today. I've just been thinking about a lot of things. My mind feels like it's kinda gone into a tizzy. But I _am_ ready to talk. I _need_ to talk to _someone_ about all this...and I'm really glad it's you."

"Okay," Roger breathed softly. He took Mark's hand. "Whatever it is, we _will_ get through it together. You know that don't you?"

Mark smiled meekly, "Yeah, I do." After a really big exhale, Mark began slowly. "Now, keep in mind I've never shared this with _anyone_. I don't even think I knew, er remembered really until yesterday. So it's never been said out loud before, so it may come out differently than I want. Please do not stop me until I am finished. But I may not get through it all at once so I may need to take a break, or...or something. I'm rambling. Sorry," Mark had now apologized for the third time in less than a single minute.

"Okay, here goes," Mark said trying to begin again. "Yup, I'm just gonna do this," he trailed off once more, shutting his eyes tightly with embarrassment.

Roger scooted himself closer, hoping that it would show Mark that everything was going to be all right. Squeezing his lover's hand to give him the assurance he obviously needed, Roger looked at him in the tenderest of ways.

Mark nodded in submission, finally ready. "When I was little, in kindergarten, I think, my parents went on a trip to San Francisco. My Dad's brother and his wife came over to watch me and my baby sister. They were only gone a week, but it felt longer." Mark sipped the air slowly, but he continued on. "One night, really late, my uncle came in to check on me. He whispered, asked if I was sleeping. Being the light sleeper I am, I'd already woken when he opened my door. A few words were exchanged I'm sure, but I don't remember what they were. All I know is that he'd somehow convinced me not to tell anyone about what was about to happen. And then he raped me Rog, I know he did...that fuckin' bastered." Tears stung Mark's eyes as he formed the words aloud. Hitting his ears for the first time, he was shocked, himself, to hear them.

Roger's face was now a shade of ghostly white. He was paler than the filmmaker had ever seen him before.

The feeling of the lump was quickly returning to his throat as Mark's awful story came to an end, his mouth now very dry. He couldn't think of words to consol his lover. Nothing, nothing was coming to his mind. He was just so sorry and so sad. "I...I," Roger tried. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled Mark into a hug.

"It wasn't just that once," Mark said after a moment. His words had been muffled against Roger's broad shoulder. He pulled back, gazing up at his roommate through his steamed-up glasses. He was surprised to see that Roger was crying more than he was.

Roger put a hand to either side, framing Mark's face, forcing his eye contact. He sniffled, "I am _so_ sorry, Mark. You should _never_ have had to go through _any_ of that shit." He lowered his hands from the smaller man's face and rested his forehead against his partner's.

"You know, that's not even the worst part..." Mark said sadly. "I think my brain decided to block those memories out. That's why I'd forgotten until I was in a similar situation last night."

His eyes shifted down to Mark's blue ones, a look of surprise and devastation playing upon his brow.

"Oh! No, Rog, please. Don't get me wrong. Last night was...incredible, to say the least. But I think it's what also triggered those memories, those awful, awful memories. In any case, my mom called about a week ago to tell me that my uncle had passed. She said nothing about how he died, just that he did. I guess," he pulled himself away from Roger slightly to see him better. "I guess," He repeated, "I just need to know _how_. God only knows how many others this yuppie-scum did this to. And I need to know, if maybe I should be...tested."

Roger exhaled as he slowly nodded. "Yeah," He said wiping his nose with his jacket sleeve. "I think that's probably a good idea, regardless of how your Uncle Douche Bag died."


End file.
